


Where She Belongs

by execution_empress



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/execution_empress/pseuds/execution_empress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha slips away for a week and it takes Clint to get her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where She Belongs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AndWeMutate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndWeMutate/gifts).



> Based on [AndWeMutate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AndWeMutate)'s prompt: Any Avengers pairing with the line "Everything I've done, I've done for you." 
> 
> Unbeta'd. I hope you all enjoy! ♥

There are some days when Natasha starts to question the things around her. It happens to each of them and the Black Widow would like to think she’s stronger than that, but she can’t help and succumb to it as well. Usually it’s during a thunderstorm, when the lightning cracks at her like a whip, or in the dead of night during a blizzard when the chill runs right to her bones, but it lingers and settles right in her chest. 

Whenever it happens, she withdraws from the group. Instead of witty remarks and light teases, she’s silent with a faint smirk. Instead of chuckles and snickers, she nods with the tiniest of smiles on her face. Instead of eating with some of the others (since Tony and Bruce eat at erratic times), she skips meals or waits till no one is around for her to nibble on something or drink some of Stark’s most expensive vodka. Instead of watching television next to Clint, working out with Steve, or braiding Thor’s hair, she hides in her room or in another part of Stark’s vast tower, where she can be alone with her demons.

Whenever it happens, he’s always there to find her.

After a powerful storm passed through New York, with howling winds and torrential rain and thunder even louder than Thor, Natasha isn’t seen for a week. They give her her space, because she’d do the same for them as well, but a week without seeing red is a reason to worry. It’s never vocal, but rather in small, simple actions. Bruce glances towards her door, Steve spaces out as he’s lost in thought, and Tony makes sure to poke and jab at Clint every time they pass one another. Each time they do, he shrugs his shoulders and feigns nonchalance, but it’s what he mentions that stands out to Clint.

“You know, if you ever need JARVIS to track anything, let me know. Or let him know. He likes to feel useful around here.”

He knows it’s Tony’s way of saying “I’m worried.” He doesn’t need JARVIS’ help though. He never lets her be alone for more than a week. It’s the most any of them can stand before their own personal demons gnaw at them. 

Carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and a few large cookies on it, Clint knows to skip her room and try the Stark Tower library close to the top floor. A view of the city, a few books, and complete isolation: It’s the perfect place for a spider to hide.

And that is where he finds her. In a web of books and consuming loneliness, she sits on the padded windowsill. Her knees are drawn up to her chest, her face to the window to overlook the city. Any peeks of her face he catches are in the reflection. Her naturally bright eyes are weary and weighted with dark circles, casting back the memories of bleaker days. Her lips, usually plump with teases and smirks and chuckles, are drawn back tight in a line. She doesn’t speak, her silence only adding to the eerie and gloomy atmosphere of the quiet room. What was once a vibrant face is now haunted.

The only reason he knows she’s aware of his presence is the way her eyes flicker up in the window, briefly registering his appearance, then glance back down at the city. He sets the tray on a small table close by and sits next to her, his back leaning against her back. No words are exchanged at first. No words are needed. Each other’s presence is enough.

That’s only at first. Clint isn’t sure how long it’s been. He knows the traffic light has gone through its cycle countless times, cars moving and stopping and honking, people walking and running and talking, all unaware two sets of eyes are overlooking them all. He knows Natasha is gazing down as well. He watches her reflection more than anything. Her eyes are downcast. He’s unsure if she’s scanning the city or staring at their hands. All he knows is that it’s her voice that wakes him from a trance.

“...Clint?”

“Hm?”

“Is it a mistake that I’m here?”

“...What?”

“I sometimes wonder about what you did. Maybe I shouldn’t be here at all. Maybe you should have made followed your orders, made a _different_ call.”

Clint doesn’t say a word. His fingers curl briefly, then intertwine with hers. He sees in the reflection she’s still staring down at their hands, but her eyes seem softer.

“There’s nothing in the world that’s gonna convince me otherwise.” The silence between them is thick yet clear, heavy yet light, confusing yet simple. “You’re strong, Tasha. Stronger than any of us. You won’t betray me, like I-” he stops when she squeezes his hand.

“That’s not fair. I don’t have a choice now.” In her voice is the faintest hint of a smile and he sees her lips slightly turn upward. “I can’t betray you when you put it like that.”

Clint smiles and can’t help but chuckle and she joins in. Her comfort is enough to soothe his regret and his presence is a balm to her aching soul. “You thought about it before? So what stopped you?”

“If someone truly believes in me, I owe it to them to stay just a bit longer.” There’s that one word. The o-word. For them, there is no love. There is nothing but lies and deceptions in their line of work. When undercover, they have to easily use words of love and seduction to whisk away classified information and secrets. Using those same words to one another is scary. It reminds them of work, of what can be snatched away, so instead there are other tells.

For her, it’s the o-word.

Clint turns to her though her eyes are gazing down at their hands. “Tasha? Why do you stay?”

“I owe you a debt.” It’s with those words that he squeezes her hand. Her eyes dart up to meet his, searching for something to believe in. There’s a spark, hiding in those olive green eyes, and he hopes to ignite it. 

“Why do you stay?” she asks, her voice so close yet so far away. 

“Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.” For him, there is no o-word. It’s the d-word. D and O. Do. Their whole relationship is based on doing something for one another. Whether it be making a different call, finding and rescuing from brain washing, saving the world side by side, or sitting together as close as they can be, he does everything he can for her and she owes him another debt. Love slips in between their language, which speaks volumes than saying the word itself.

He dips his head down and she leans up so their lips can meet. Their hands stay intertwined as they share kiss after kiss to make up for the lost week. It’s when he feels her lips curl up against his that he breaks apart. With his other hand, he slides his fingers through her hair and lightly kisses her forehead. 

“Welcome back,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down to kiss her closed eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, everywhere just to purposely miss her mouth. The lonely horrors of the week are gone, the dark circles under her eyes the only reminder, but even those seem faded he she smiles at him.

“Thanks. It feels good to be home.” He turns and she slips into his lap, her arm around him as she lays her head on his chest. She can hear his heartbeat as they both look back out onto the city. She can’t hear the city or another incoming storm. She can only hear his heart, her home, and she knows she’s right where she belongs.


End file.
